Friday, April 20, 2018

Les Murray / The Mitcells

Les Murray
Poster by T. A.

The Mitchells

by Murray

I am seeing this: two men are sitting on a polethey have dug a hole for and will, after dinner, raise I think for wires. Water boils in a prune tin.Bees hum their shift in unthinning mists of whitebursaria blossom, under the noon of wattles.The men eat big meat sandwiches out of a styrofoambox with a handle. One is overheard saying:drought that year. Yes. Like trying to farm the road.The first man, if asked, would say I'm one of the Mitchells.The other would gaze for a while, dried leaves in his palm,and looking up, with pain and subtle amusement,say I'm one of the Mitchells. Of the pair, one has been richbut never stopped wearing his oil-stained felt hat. Nearly everythingthey say is ritual. Sometimes the scene is an avenue.